Chapter Twenty-Five #2
She opened her eyes just as his quizzical gaze fell on the letter opener still clutched in her hand like a dagger. His eyes twinkled with amusement. “What’s that for? Did you think I might send you a letter instead of coming in person?”
She shook her head, able to smile at last. “Absolutely not. It’s to stab Sir Julian in the eye with if he made an attempt on my virtue.”
He raised his eyebrows and chuckled. “Here was I thinking you were a mild-mannered little thing who wouldn’t say boo to a goose, and now you turn out to be quite the little vixen. Should I beware?”
How ridiculous this was when they had no time to lose. She pulled away from him or they’d be standing there all day. “Quick, we have to get away right now. I think he’s downstairs somewhere.”
He caught her hand and they turned towards the open doorway as one.
Sir Julian stepped into the room, a pistol, probably a duelling pistol, raised in his right hand and pointing squarely at Harry’s chest.
Miranda stared, her mind, just for that instant, a blank of fear.
“Oh no you don’t,” Sir Julian said, his voice strangely level, as though he were discussing the weather with an acquaintance.
“Get behind me,” Harry muttered, and thrust Miranda forcefully out of the way of the pistol.
What was he doing? She wasn’t the one in danger of being shot. She should be standing between the two men, to protect Harry.
“Just where is it you think you’re going?” Sir Julian asked, still frighteningly unemotional, one ginger eyebrow raised.
“I’m taking Lady Madeley back to Windrush Hall where she’ll be safe,” Harry said, his voice steely. “Please lower your weapon and allow us to pass before things get any more out of hand.”
It seemed that mad people did show the whites of their eyes. Sir Julian’s were bulging so wide open she could see white all around the pale irises. The effect was terrifying. He did not for a minute look like he was in the sort of mood to stand down.
Miranda stepped out from behind Harry, aware of her heart pounding against her stays, from fear, this time, rather than love.
She fought to keep her voice level. “My cousin has come to take me home, Sir Julian.” Best not to remind him she intended to marry Harry.
“You know you cannot keep me here against my will. You should remember that you’re a magistrate and should lead by example to others less well versed in the law than you are.
” She had a feeling she was gabbling. “So, if you could kindly lower your gun, as Sir Henry has requested, I should very much like to leave with him. Now. My daughters will be worrying about their mother. I’m sure you don’t mean to upset me or my daughters, do you? ”
Hers was the voice of calm reason, the steadiness in it thanks to her mother’s training to take anything in her stride.
Sir Julian shook his head as though trying to rid himself of something, the pistol wavering back and forth as he did so.
“Be quiet, Miranda. I don’t want to hear the words he’s put into your mouth.
” He levelled the gun at Harry’s chest again, his finger twitching on the trigger.
“Your daughters will have to wait, can’t you see?
They can have you back soon enough. When you and I are married and they come to live here with you.
As your late husband always intended you all to do.
As you have promised me you will do.” His gaze wavered between Harry and her and the pistol wavered as well.
He was deranged, quite deranged.
“Listen to Lady Madeley,” Harry said. “Let her go and I will stay here. There’s a horse for her outside with one of my servants. Let her pass you and go downstairs and leave. You have no reason to keep her here.”
Sir Julian’s lower lip jutted like that of a recalcitrant child. “She’s mine. You shan’t have her.”
“Leave, Miranda,” Harry said. “It’s me he wants to shoot, not you. You’ll be safe if you leave now.”
Miranda looked from Harry’s set face to Sir Julian’s wild one. If she left, he was going to shoot the man she loved. She couldn’t let him do it.
She shook her head. “I won’t leave without you.”
“See?” crowed Sir Julian. “She wants to stay here with me. She’s going to stay here until our common licence arrives and then we’re taking the coach into Market Harborough to be married at the church of St Dionysius.
I have it all arranged. I’ve sent a message to the rector there. He’s expecting us.”
Miranda swallowed, hoping Harry wouldn’t say something to make the situation worse.
“That is a very kind offer of yours, Sir Julian, but I am still in mourning, as you know.” And here she indicated her black armband.
“I could not possibly marry for at least another year. You know that because I explained it to you not very long ago. You must remember that, surely? I have to wait.”
Harry put his hand on her arm to push her away from him.
A mistake.
Sir Julian’s face contorted in rage. “Unhand the lady now. Unhand my affianced bride or, by God, you’ll regret it.”
Harry did not release his hold. “Move to the side, Miranda,” he said, his voice low. “Pistols are not known for their accuracy and I wouldn’t like you to be too close if it goes off. By mistake.”
They were standing less than ten feet from the pistol in question and Sir Julian was a good shot. Miranda had no doubt at all that he would hit his target if he fired it. If she were the one with the pistol, she would have been sure to have hit him.
“I think I would like to go home now,” she said, summoning up her most gentle and persuasive tones.
“But not by myself. Why don’t we all go together?
That would be agreeable to me. We can all have tea at my farmhouse.
So long as you put away that pistol of yours, Sir Julian.
They frighten me so, as I’ve always been afraid of guns of all sorts.
” A lie, as she was herself a crack shot.
She put on her most persuasive voice. “Please, as a favor to me, Sir Julian. Put it down. I would be so much happier if you would do so. I am just a weak and frightened woman and you wouldn’t want to cause me to have a fit of the vapors, would you? I might faint.”
Sir Julian looked down at the pistol as though seeing it for the first time. “This?” he said. “This? You want me to put it down?” He waved it once again at Harry. “I should shoot this upstart for you. That’s what I should do.”
Miranda drew a deep shuddering breath. “No, you shouldn’t.
I will be very upset with you if you do anything as ridiculous as that, and I will most certainly never speak to you again.
I don’t want you to shoot anyone for that would end with you having to be put in prison.
And you don’t want that, do you? I know I don’t.
” What she was thinking, though, was that where he belonged was Bedlam, and as soon as possible.
“They’ll not send me to prison for shooting an upstart like him,” Sir Julian said, full of righteous confidence.
“For defending the lady I love. My wife to be. My fellow magistrates would never dare to prosecute me, one of their own. I’ve got impunity, have no fear.
I can do just what I like to an upstart like him who has broken into my house. He’s a burglar, that’s what he is.”
“Move away from me, Miranda,” Harry repeated, through gritted teeth. “Do as I tell you.” And he gave her a little shove.
The pistol, which had been beginning to droop in Sir Julian’s hand probably because he was finding it heavy to hold up for so long, swept up again, his bulging eyes narrowed and in that split moment Miranda saw his finger tighten on the trigger, as though it were the only thing in the room, blown up to fill her view and dominating everything.
“No!” Without thinking, she threw herself to her right. Not away from Harry but towards him. “Don’t!” The loudest noise she’d ever heard filled the room, something punched her hard in the stomach and the stink of gunpowder filled the air. Harry caught her as she fell and she knew nothing more.